I'm so Sorry, Amanda
by Tormentor488
Summary: Three years post Welcome to Dead House. Ray is still undead and yearning for two things: Amanda Benson, and her death. Ray/Amanda
1. Ray

_"I'm so sorry, Amanda. I'm the watcher. I'm supposed to be the watcher, and I screwed up."_ That moment played itself over in my mind for the hundredth time, as it invariably did every time we approached the anniversary.

Amanda Benson escaped Dark Falls almost three years ago. Her family being the _only_ ones to ever elude us. The fact I was bested by her and her little brother's idiocy infuriated me. I wanted nothing more than to hate Amanda. And I did. But that wasn't enough. Hating her wouldn't do, because it wasn't the only thing I felt for her. You couldn't call it love. I barely knew her. Barely met her. It was just a crush. One which lingered ever since her brother shone that light on me and my flesh liquefied. Foolishly, they thought I was finished. But, like my feelings for her, I linger. Just as the residents of the town do.

She must be nearly fifteen by now. Or perhaps she already was. I neglected to ask her when her birthday was.

 _Fifteen..._ I mused gloomily.

I'm still eleven. Physically. That would never change. My eighteenth birthday recently passed, though it was hardly celebrated. Years ago, I made it clear to my parents how I felt about being stuck in my current manifestation. To grow mentally but always being confined to the body of a child was its own hell. No less it was the corpse of a child. Year after year, it disgusted me more. Like clothes you could never change. All the dirt and filth ever clinging to your body.

I despised it, and somehow, I still recall wanting to share it with Amanda. I recall starting the ritual, my eyes casting a dull red glow. Hovering over her frail young body. I could feel the warmth draining from her frame. Her heart slowing dramatically.

That beam of light.

Damn that Josh. Bitterly, it occurred to me that even he would be fourteen by now. Biologically my senior. It made my still stomach lurch. Which reminded me...

We'd be feasting soon. A new family was being duped into hosting our annual blood drive. It didn't take much. Among the entire town, we especially couldn't afford it. Ounces. That was all we needed for a year's time to get our fill. Two cycles had since passed.

One family arrived shortly after Amanda left. It made me wonder if she encountered them. And, if she did, why she didn't warn them.

The first few weeks after our feast were when we were at our strongest. Our strength peaked maybe a month, and gradually tapered off over a year's time. The final few weeks were always the worst. That was when our powers sank to near-mortal levels. It was when the hunger and exhaustion began to affect us. It was no wonder we enjoyed feasting as much as we did, and why we were so desperate for our yearly fill. We'd have liked to drink more than once a year, but we recruited too often as it was. Families continued to disappear every year. In the back of my mind, I knew it was only a matter of time until we were found out.

And then what?

…

Heh, as if it mattered. Death would be a blessing, assuming the government found a way to truly exterminate us. I welcomed the thought. However, I wasn't ready to die quite yet. There was still one thing left to be done. One thing I knew would haunt my spirit if I were to die before completing the task. It had been a notion three years in the making, but I had finally found the resolve. I was nearly prepared.

I mentioned we're strongest once we've consumed fresh blood. I decided I'd test just how powerful I'd become.

Ordinarily, we're bound to this town, as if by some spell. Those who have tried to wander off never make it far. Their accounts all vary in one way or another, but one constant remains: the farther you try to leave Dark Falls' bounds, the more pain you experience. Maybe the pain of your soul being separated from the decaying flesh of our bodies. Maybe the pain of being dragged toward hell. Whatever its origin, it was often too overwhelming to endure. Invariably, everyone wandered back eventually.

If I were to defy this spell, I'd have to reach the pinnacle of my strength. It was a long shot, but the only one I had. There was no conceivable way to make Amanda come back. At least, not without using force. I could manage that, but only if I were able to leave the town first.

Yes, it was my only hope. To quell this flame in my stomach that burned with hatred of her and a love I didn't understand.

I would extinguish all when I ended her life.


	2. Karen

We'd begun to disperse from the amphitheater. For the seventh consecutive year, we preyed on the living. A base act which I'm never eager to expound upon.

It was the usual routine: a man, woman, and a couple children. Anger. Bargaining. Crying. Shrieking. Thrashing. The warmth transferring from their bodies to ours.

I'm not proud of it. I never have been. It's just our way of "life". Everyone had their own reasons. The majority were just too hungry to resist.

I'm not sure any of us feared death. At one point or another, each of us had attempted suicide.

Nothing worked.

Amanda and Josh "killed" me and the rest of the town. But my consciousness never wavered. Even when I melted to a pool at their feet, I was always aware. I knew, somehow, I'd be back.

It took just one day.

"Ray!" It was Karen who called out my name. Through the shambling corpses, she weaved to catch up to me.

"Hey! That was a good yield, huh? Don't you feel refreshed?" The corner of her mouth caught my eye. There, a solitary, almost luminescent crimson drop of blood clung. Contrasted with her innocent, beaming face, my stomach rolled.

"Karen." I hissed in disgust. "Your mouth." Her expression was one of confusion, then remorse. She hastily scrubbed it away with her forearm.

"Sorry," she whispered sheepishly. "I forgot how much this bothers you."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Well," she considered it a moment. "I mean. We're not killing them. They get to join our community. Right? I mean, it's like one life to the next... Right?" Her tone was cheerful, but it was a shell. Beneath it, I could sense the hollow lack of conviction. Karen had a habit of putting optimistic spins on everything. Initially, a charming quality. As the years passed, however, I grew tired. Of her, this town, its inhabitants, and everything else.

""Life"". I echoed, narrowing my stare.

"Ray." Karen sulked. "How are we supposed to live with ourselves if we think of ourselves as... murderers...?" She lowered her head. As she had a penchant for sugar coating the cold truth of reality, she also had a habit of making me feel guilty. For all of her faults, Karen and I were practically inseparable. It pained me to see her distraught.

"I'm sorry." I muttered, still agitated.

 _I'm so sorry, Amanda_

"I worry about you, Ray. You've always been kind of distant. But you seem like you're, I don't know..." She paused. Either she was uncertain or reluctant to continue. "Like you're drifting away. You've been like this since-"

"You _know_ what I said." I barked at her, annoyed she nearly violated our agreement. Years ago, I made it clear never to mention Amanda by name. Somehow, it made me feel sick. The dead weight of my stomach flittered when attention was called to her. I felt joyful and alive and depressed and anxious all in one blow.

There was another obvious shift in mood after my verbal lashing. Karen withdrew further into herself, and the reason grew more and more obvious with the passing years. She and I had gotten close, especially in the few most recent years. I knew she had feelings for me. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't share the sentiment. To some extent.

But it felt wrong. From the moment Karen confessed, my mind was inundated with what Amanda's life must be like. I wanted to know where she was. Who she was with. Where she was going to school. When, exactly, her birthday was. I know that I don't belong here. As much as it pained me to think it, the last thing I wanted was to be stuck with Karen. Forever frozen in this photograph of a town. With the shells of citizens and our hollow, meaningless lives.

Amanda was life. I wanted her because she was a change. And the worst part was, even if I escaped this town, even if I could make her love me, I'd always be a child. And I'd never get over her rejecting me that night. I hated being undead, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, yet the thought of her resistance maddened me.

I could stop all of it if I simply found and slaughtered her. It was my only solution. Nothing else could be done. Nothing could be repaired. I needed to do it while she's still young. While she's still close to the physical form I remember and despise. Close to a form I grew to love.

As to what I'd do beyond her demise was unknown. It didn't matter. I had a purpose beyond this stagnant cesspool. Beyond Karen and her foolish proclamations of love. I wouldn't be tethered to her or anyone else who toiled away uselessly here.

There had to be _more._

"I wish you weren't so guarded, Ray." Her voice was a low and broken whisper. In confidence, I revealed my repulsive secret to her. She knew of my feelings for Amanda. And my strong reactions to her mention, or lack thereof, was always an indication.

It pained Karen's still, petrified heart.

"I'm sorry. Again." I sighed. "But you know how that makes me feel."

"Because you love her?" She had another habit. This one, however, was far uglier. Any time I rejected her, or even made vague allusions to Amanda, her jealousy was palpable. She'd turn Amanda against me like a blade.

"Don't do this to me. Karen."

"She's out in the real world, Ray. With people who sleep, eat, and live with purpose. We're here. And you're the only thing that makes me care about staying alive. You helped me-"

"Don't say it." She'd mentioned it to me before, and I didn't want to hear it again. Not when she was in one of her moods. Because she always twisted it.

"You made me feel better about killing." The corner of her lip- where a small red stain was now- curled just barely. "Now, I gladly consume blood. It fills the void. It makes me warm. And it's something we share."

"That's our bond? The blood of the living?"

"Forget about her. Please." She was getting closer to me. I could smell the copper on her breath. Overwhelming and foul. The inner lining of her mouth was coated with the thick, shimmering liquid.

She was savoring it.

I turned away from her and drew in a fresh breath of air. I didn't need to breathe, but I needed to clear my head of that scent.

"We're just corpses." I spat at her, low and bitter. "This isn't life, and I won't continue to live this way. Not forever." What I imagined to be Amanda's life now played itself out in my head. I saw her in school. I saw she was taller than I am now. I could see her scraping her knee. Fresh blood. I could see the warm, pink blotches in her cheeks. Approaching a boy her age. A crush. I could see a rich, fulfilling future laid out before her. Children. Marriage. A husband. A wedding. And I was there. Always behind her. A photograph of a boy she wouldn't look at anymore. Frozen in time. Frozen in her past.

And Karen was beside me.

"You can't die. None of us can." She rested her freshly-warmed hand on my shoulder. I instinctively shrugged away.

"You can't die, Ray. And neither can I. But she-"

"Don't." I snatched her wrist. "Just stop talking." I could see thin scarlet lines forming on her lower eyelids. She was close to tears now. And all the damned could cry was the blood of our victims. Another trait which disgusted me. I took a step back, simultaneously releasing her wrist.

"You have to get used to this, Ray. There's no other way to live. And you told me that." It was true, I had. And though it was only a handful of years ago, it felt like a lifetime. Karen was barely able to live with herself for the first year or two. She refused to eat for nearly two years. I comforted her for much of that time. We bonded. We discussed our aspirations, back when this somehow seemed temporary. I convinced her all would be well. We drank together. We laughed with bloodstained teeth. We hugged in the cold, dead light of the moon. We laid in the cemetery and went cold with the ground around us at night. We looked at the stars and played head games with the humans who would come along annually.

That was life, for a while.

 _Life._

"I can't _live_ like this." My throat stressed the word so hard it went hoarse. "Karen, I'm losing my mind. It's only been seven years." I advanced toward her, closing the gap between us once more. "It's been _seven_ years and I'm already losing my grip. I'm already forgetting how to be human. I'm forgetting how to be undead. I'm forgetting everything. Every day is listless and grey. It all runs together and I'm losing time. I'm losing time and somehow it doesn't matter." I seized her shoulders. My hands were long, sinewy talons.

"You're becoming something I don't even recognize. Everyone else is the same way. I look in the mirror and I'm what I've always remembered. But I don't see anything there anymore. Do you understand me? How do I live another seven years? Another seventy?"

"Ray..." Her eyes widened. A solitary red line cut her cheek. I could sense her anguish. And a fear equally as palpable. Somehow, I knew this was only the first time she was considering the consequences of unending existence. In the entire town, I'm not sure anyone had the thoughts I did.

"Do you get it now? If nothing else, do you understand?"

"Ray, please. Stop." Her voice was uneven. I could feel her muscles slacken and shake in my grip. "We have to make it work somehow. We can't die."

 _We can't die we can't die we can't die_

 _Like an ouroboros_

 _Swallowing its tail_

 _Without fail_

 _She says to me:_

 _We can't die_

"Don't say that to me. Not Amanda, not immortality... Nothing." She took the lapels of my coat into each hand and bunched them up. It was purely a psychological reaction, but she was still quivering.

"Please, just calm down. You're really, really scaring me. We don't have to talk about any of it. Let's just go back to your house." The suggestion seemed to ease her trembling. "And just watch something stupid on TV."

My hands slid down her arms, lingering on the elbows before dropping to my sides. Her evasiveness only worsened my despondency. But I was losing the will to fight it. I didn't have enough strength left to raise her to the surface. She was drowning with everyone else. And she seemed convinced I should drown too.

"Yeah."


	3. Amanda

I woke in a cold sweat.

Another dream of Ray.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. It took only seconds to acclimate to the darkness of my room so I could make out shapes. A chair. My lamp. A pile of clothes. No sign of Ray. I was safe. I was safe, and yet...

Somehow, I was disappointed. The curious thing was that the dream- nightmares, really- were never pleasant. He was always chasing me. Trying to harm me- or worse. Invariably, I'd see his pallid skin. The dull, smoldering glow of his red eyes. And his small, but threatening, smirk. He was shorter than me, but he always felt taller. His presence so demanding and powerful. Oppressive and suffocating.

Comforting.

The word slithered through my brain like a snake and made me shiver. Why did I miss him?

…

And, as invariably as the dreams occurred, an answer eluded me, as it had for three years. And even more disturbing than my feelings for Ray was the idea _he might still be out there somewhere._ I never investigated further, and I've tried shutting it out of my mind all this time, but to no avail. I know what I saw the day I left Dark Falls.

Dawes was still alive. Compton Dawes was alive and I _saw_ him _die._ If he was still out there... If, somehow, the people of this town persisted like some insidious cancer-

I had to stop thinking about it. Every time the notion crossed my mind, my heart fluttered in a way I didn't particularly like. A rising, swelling hope. A desperate longing and want. The source of which was something that sorely disgusted me.

Truthfully, I desperately hoped Ray was still alive. I wonder, frequently, how he's doing. What he does in his spare time. What he thinks about. And, maybe, if he remembers me.

I wonder if he's around.

Not just "around" in the sense he's alive. But part of me worries- and hopes, in spite of myself- he's been close this entire time. Stalking me. Beckoning me "home" and back to the Dead House. To the bone meals with my skeleton family. The stuff of my nightmares.

But, if that were the case, he'd surely have come for me by now. It was in these moments I felt oddly upset again. Does he not know where I live? Can he not leave the town? Is he really, truly dead?

 _Get it together, Amanda. You've been seeing a boy recently anyway. A boy of flesh and blood. One who's interested in you and not trying to maim or murder you._

Right.

I met Terry a year after I'd escaped Dark Falls. And while I confided in him, I was never able to explain the events of that place to him. Nor anyone else. I could speak vaguely and in half-truths, but the reality was always an intangible apparition. A phantom that lingered on the brokenness of what I said. Like a shadow out of the corner of your eye, it always was apparent, but never enough for anyone to identify it.

My family had developed a plethora of mental issues since we left that place. Josh and I both saw a therapist regularly. Where we spilled our guts without divulging what really happened. We knew they'd think we were psychos.

Even years later, there was an undercurrent of fear and tenseness. That something could still happen. Sometimes, on especially bad nights, I'd wake up dazed enough to think I was still in that miserable second-floor room in that nightmare house.

And that dual feeling of horror and elation would wash over me. Deathly fearful and hopeful I'd see Ray's small frame at the foot of my bed. Watching over me with his piercing blue eyes. And praying I wouldn't see that dull red glow of those ironically cold eyes. Those which seemed to drain the life out of me when his small frame levitated over my dying body that night.

If it wasn't for Josh, I'd have become one of them. For that, I was eternally grateful. I couldn't imagine a worse fate. Not only to feast on the blood of the living, but to be eternally trapped in the body of a child.

So of course I'd be grateful to Josh. Of course I would be.

And even still...


	4. Escape

The sky was overcast. It was a blustery, frigid evening when I decided to make my escape. Every minute spent in the cold, I could feel my muscles tensing and stiffening. Being undead was almost like being a lizard. However, we didn't- couldn't- rely on the sun for warmth, or be exposed to its rays.

Could you imagine such a fate? To never roam carelessly outside on a sunny day again? Constantly having to hide beneath hoods and hats. Jackets year round. Shorts never even a consideration. That was my life for the past seven years. The only time we could move was in the cold, dead silence. We crawled out of the woodwork like spiders.

It made my stomach, which still sat with blood, roll.

I was confident I'd made no indication I intended to leave. I didn't want to alarm the residents of the town. Moreover, I didn't know what the consequences might be if I tried to leave. It had been so long, years, even, since anyone attempted to.

And I had never tried to escape at all.

I was confident I left in secrecy.

So, imagine my surprise when I heard a distinct wail as I approached Dark Falls' city limits.

"Ray!" It was Karen. The phantom beckoning me back. I turned in her direction. She was quickly closing in at a dead sprint, gasping for lungfuls of air she didn't need. A residual reflex from her humanity.

"What are you doing?" She didn't need to yell anymore, her sprint slowing to a jog. "You know it's dangerous to walk out this far."

"Hmph." I sneered. "And what danger is there out here? What could harm me?" I motioned around, the trees and brush on either side of us whistled eerily in the wind. Her expression was knowing and strained. She knew exactly why I was here.

"You... You know what they've said. The ones who tried to leave..."

"Feels like you're on fire and your bones are melting. Something like that, right? If you go too far?" I sighed it aloofly.

"Maybe even worse, if you wander out too far. For too long." She kneaded the bottom of her shirt nervously.

"Death?"

"I don't know. Why would you even try? You know what they've said. What's out here that's worth seeing?" I could see behind her eyes that she knew. She didn't want to say it, but she knew, and I knew that she did. So I'd break my own truce to show her my conviction.

"Amanda." I whispered it with an anxious, feverish joy. Only the slightest trace of a smirk lingered on my lips. It felt liberating to speak the name of she who must not be named.

My MacBeth.

My curse.

My slander.

My blasphemy.

My freedom.

Amanda.

One small utterance was all it took to rile Karen up. She bit her lip, but it was just a vain attempt to cage her next words.

"Fuck Amanda!" Her hands clenched into bone-white fists at her sides. "It's been seven years! Seven YEARS and you are still on about her! You knew her for, what, a week?"

"Karen-"

"And we've murdered how many other families? What makes her so special? Why didn't you spare the others?"

"I tried to kill her-"

"She'd have been DEAD if that were true! Your precious Amanda would be here if you had just done her in-"

"I TRIED to!" I objected. My blood would have been boiling if I had a beating heart. "Her brother- he stopped me!" I recited the events to her for the hundredth time since the day of her escape. "He had a halogen flashlight! I couldn't complete the ritual!"

Karen wasn't having it, as she usually wouldn't with Amanda.

"You hesitated." Was her bitter accusation. "You spared her because your precious Amanda is just so much better than any of us!"

"I'm setting out to rectify my error." My voice was a cold whisper against the frigid wind. Fall was descending upon us quickly. Soon, the residents of the town could move more freely, as the days grew shorter. Not that I'd be around for it.

"What do you mean?" My confession seemed to ease her nerves, if only slightly. Her stance was less rigid and her face was no longer contorted with sadness and rage.

"Amanda will die by my hand. It's as simple as that." It was music to her ears. I knew it was, and I could trace it in her features. Her twisted delight disgusted me, but it wasn't the only emotion there. I saw the rising hope that I'd kill Amanda, but the confusion and distrust as well.

"Why would you kill her?" She asked hesitantly. "And why now? Are you lying to me? Are you trying to run off with her?" The anger swelled in her once more. The ugly, teeth-gnashing bitch was rearing her head again.

"I'm killing her," I sighed, already annoyed. "because that was always my intention. I'm also the Watcher. As the Watcher, it's my duty, above all else, to ensure the town is safe. Amanda is a loose end. Who knows what she might tell the world?"

"What about the rest of her family?" Admittedly, that caught me off guard. In all the years, I'd only occasionally fantasized about strangling Josh to death. Now, it only seemed obvious to murder him for humiliating me. As for her parents, I'd never gotten to know them, but it was true I couldn't let them go unpunished.

"Yes. All of them."

There were a few moment of silence after my confession, only broken by the frenetic wind.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She finally built up the resolve to ask me. And, truthfully, I didn't have a concrete answer. It's not as though I didn't trust Karen. I knew she wouldn't rat me out even if I'd directly told her I was leaving.

I supposed it was primarily to avoid conflict. We both knew it was virtually impossible to escape the town. Nearly everyone had tried. We didn't know what would happen to anyone who strayed for too long. We weren't even sure how we were still alive.

"I don't know." I professed bluntly. "I left on a whim. But finishing her off has always been the plan."

"Just one you never let me in on?" Her tone was indignant, but not entirely unhappy. Amanda's death truly was salve for her soul.

"I guess."

The silence crept back in again. The clouds rolled and the wind whistled louder while we stared at each other. I could smell a rain coming. The air was cool and wet with earth. I wondered, drearily, if lightning might strike me if I'm out in the open for too long in the long stretching roads and fields ahead. Places I hadn't seen since I died.

"If you're going, then I'm coming with you." Her voice broke my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I won't let you go alone." She insisted, crossing her arms. "And I want to see her die too."

All it once, it finally occurred to me why I didn't tell Karen my intentions. The eagerness of her voice. How she brightened at the idea of slaughtering Amanda. The unmistakable elation I _knew_ she had for the idea of finally being rid of her- that is what I hated the most. While I wanted Amanda dead, I took no pride in the idea. No happiness. It was simply a necessary action that needed to be fulfilled.

It was my duty and my responsibility. As the Watcher, I had obligations. Karen had no such sense.

"No. I forbid it."

"What? What are you saying? Why can't I? You can't stop me!"

"As the Watcher, I oversee all actions. And I don't approve of this one."

Karen closed the gap between us. "Since you're so big on authority now, you want to tell this idea of yours to Dawes? You think he'll approve of you abandoning the town?"

"You're not coming with me." I narrowed my eyes.

"Try and stop me." She challenged.

I didn't answer her. I wasn't going to tolerate her childish behavior, and I knew the solution lay in executing my plan.

I turned away from her and continued walking. I nearly stumbled from the rigidity of my muscles. The cold was taking its toll. But I knew I could press on. With my recently renewed strength, I knew I could finally escape.

Karen was close behind, though she also wasn't talking. I didn't want her tailing me, but I knew it wouldn't be a problem for long.

Especially after the first wave struck me. It was a low, angry burning sensation. It started in my stomach and radiated through my body. My vision completely faded for just a split second. I was nearly crippled completely by it. It was so blinding to every sense I couldn't initially hear Karen scream.

"Ray!" She cried out. I heard her fall, but I didn't care. I stumbled forward drunkenly. Another wave, in the chest this time. It was like being shot by hot white bullets. Several beads of concentrated agony tore at my chest, but nothing was physically apparent. On the surface I seemed fine.

"Ray! It hurts!" Her voice was more distant, but I barely remembered covering ground. The stabs of agony were blocking out almost all external information. My eyes were on fire. It was like staring into the sun.

I was ten years old again. I was staring directly into the sun. Back when such a thing was possible for me. It was reckless and stupid, but I liked the challenge.

My body hurt. Back when pain meant something to this shell.

I panted. Because I felt like I actually needed to breath again. The pain was indescribable. Only the white void occupied everything around me.

But I'd never been this alive before.

Eternity unraveled itself in front of me, and Amanda stood on the horizon of the endlessly stretching brink.

Karen's voice disappeared somewhere along the way.

I counted each step to keep my mind from tearing itself apart.

And Amanda was waiting for me.


	5. Stitching Fragments

Fragments.

"My name's Amanda."

Broken up pieces.

I'm supposed to be the Watcher

But the pain's

screwed-

Fragmented

Still walking

"My name's Amanda

"Ray...y our grave?"

"I'm so sorry

Still walking

One

I don't recall

being ONE at all

Two another step

did I s tart over?

F

r

ag

men

ted

If I couldn't hold it together-

"Happy birthday, dear Ray-"

I HAVE TO HOLD IT OR I WON'T SEE HER

"-and this is my brother, Josh.

"JOSH!" the halogen flashlight.

I'm still on the road. I think I'm on the road.

"Ray! It hurts!" But even that was gone now. It had been for a while.

It's getting clearer now, but the pai-

RIPPING

Ray Thurston

1977-1988

"You weren't supposed to find out this way."

I'm still on the road.

"Dogs always know. They kill the dogs first. They can smell the undead."

I killed her dog.

I'm still on the road.

And I'm coming back to my senses.


	6. Amanda's Dream

Ray was shambling down a dark road I couldn't recognize. He was clutching his torso with one arm, like he was in pain. But I couldn't make out any evidence of a wound. The wind tossed his white-blonde hair erratically, and he seemed to be muttering something.

"One." I could make out the whisper above the wind. Just barely.

"Two." Counting?

"Three." Each number corresponded with every slow, labored step. But why would he be counting them? Where was he? And what was he doing?

"One," he started over. He stumbled a few steps, then rested just a moment. He clutched his knee with one hand, and leaned over as if to vomit. He was breathing heavily, as if he'd been running a marathon, but I'd been following his movement for a while. It didn't add up. He was barely limping along the road, so why was he so out of breath?

Why did he need to breathe at all?

"One," he said, jerking himself forward drunkenly.

I couldn't see Dark Falls anywhere. How far had he traveled? And where was he traveling to?

"Four." He'd counted a few more steps.

I could see myself now. The fear prickled up into me acutely, and I wondered how I wasn't aware of the danger until just now. I was just down the road, barely illuminated by a streetlight.

And Ray was approaching me.

"Hey!" I called out to my body. It didn't respond. "HEY!"

Her expression- my expression- was blank. I couldn't make much more from her features in the distance and the dark. But I could see her glassy, vacant eyes. Just waiting for Ray to reach her.

"Amanda." Ray's voice was grating. It made me jump. He'd shuffled closer than I realized. Though he didn't seem to notice me. He was fixated on this illusion of me just down the road. The vacant, braindead, expressionless version of me. Just on the horizon.

I didn't know why I was seeing it, but, somehow I understood.

And even so, the dread rose further. I couldn't stop him, and I couldn't wake her. She'd stand there until he reached her, and I'd have to watch.

"HEY!" Neither of them heard me. Ray was getting faster. Like he was waking up himself.

She didn't move. She wore my blank expression mockingly. Unblinking eyes fixed on Ray's small, increasingly-confident stride.

And I still couldn't move.

"Amanda." I could hear his voice like he was right beside me. A whisper and an echoing, commanding boom. Clear as crystal or God saying your name. Unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

He was nearly to her- to me- when I woke up. My eyes didn't shoot open, in fact, they didn't open at all. But I knew it was a dream. My breathing was as labored and frantic as his had been when I first came upon him in the dream.

Steadily, it came down, lower and lower as I processed what I had witnessed. It wasn't unlike every other nightmare I'd had of him ever since leaving Dark Falls. It wasn't unlike them, but it wasn't the same. Usually, he was more menacing. His intent was more obvious. It was clear he wanted me dead.

This time, though, I wasn't sure what he wanted.

Usually, we were still in the Dead House. Usually-

The faint creak of a floorboard. My breath caught in my throat, and I was convinced I'd been too loud somehow, despite knowing I'd only been thinking. That eerie feeling you get when you're alone and you become acutely aware you aren't alone. You're convinced whoever's watching you has heard everything.

I opened my eyes. It was a long, drawn out movement. My eyelids were like slugs scraping against the hot, dry surface of my eyeballs. They felt chapped with fear, unable to be wetted. The world swam in quickly, as my vision didn't need much time to adjust to the darkness.

For the first time since I was twelve, I saw Ray at the foot of my bed.


	7. Old Friends

A moment that drew out like a blade ensued. I'd had night terrors before, so this wasn't unusual. I braced myself for Ray's small but imposing figure to pounce. To lurch. To strangle me. To grow and suffocate me like he sometimes would.

But none of that happened.

He stood there, unmoving. A mournful, thoughtful expression on his face. As unshifting and still as his rigid frame.

That was the most unnerving part of it all. An illusion could be convincing, but so rarely was it this still and persistent. I'd hate night terrors, yes. But they were never so still, and they never lasted as long as this one had. I could practically smell the graveyard soil. A heavy, irony scent.

 _This isn't possible,_ I screamed internally. _Night terror. This has to be a night terror. But how can I be sure? He hasn't moved! No, no. Just wiggle your toes. Try to wiggle your toes, and if it works..._

Imperceptibly, I curled my toes beneath the blankets. It worked. It worked, and that meant I was awake.

Ray hadn't moved.

He was still there.

This isn't happening.

My mouth opened in a silent scream. He had to be able to see I was awake. The room was dark, but not that dark. Dim light filtered in through the open window. The moon was ripe and full.

"You shouldn't make noise," he warned in the suffocating stillness of the room. "You'll die either way." My mouth labored to form words, but it was all soundless in my fear. Every word broke before it could escape my throat.

He smiled a humorless, dry smile. It didn't reach his icy stare.

"It'll be over soon." The smirk was gone, and his eyes began to glow crimson. Just like they had three years ago. Just as they had before Josh saved me.

"Why are you here?" I blurted out. It was something I'd wanted to ask from the moment I opened my eyes to see him. Only the instinct for survival seemed to awaken the courage to ask. Even if he was only indulging me, his eyes dulled.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does." It wasn't a lie. I didn't just need a distraction, I needed answers. How did he find me? Why now? How did he even SURVIVE? Did everyone in the town return? Despite Josh and I killing them all?

His expression strained as if he'd tasted something bitter.

"I'm so sorry, Amanda." There it was again. Nothing had changed. It was still 1992. I never got out of Dark Falls. Neither did Josh, or my parents. We never defeated the residents. We never bested Ray. We just bought ourselves a few more miserable years of brokenness and uneasiness. We were on edge because we WERE waiting for something bad to happen, and now it was here. We were on borrowed time as soon as we moved into the house. We were dead just like in every nightmare I'd had in that house.

"Please." I whimpered. The most troubling thought was that this all made sense. Truthfully, I never imagined in any of my wildest fantasies that anything else ever could have happened. I hoped I'd get away. I hoped we could distance ourselves from the sordid affair. I desperately wanted to just live my life. But I wasn't just traumatized from my stay in the Dead House. None of us were. Deep down, we all understood we were just waiting. Whether we admitted to it or not. Regardless of what we told each other. Regardless of what we told ourselves.

Ray's expression was torn. But his eyes didn't betray his intent. They were aglow with murderous red once more. And for the second time in three years, I was paralyzed. My body was losing warmth rapidly. I'd have shivered if Ray had allowed me to. I'd have screamed if I weren't so entranced by his spell. My heart was slowing. Growing weaker. The thuds becoming more sparse and frail.

The room was getting darker, but I knew it was just my eyes. My vision was failing me. I couldn't take my eyes off of his piercing, hateful gaze. I could swear I sensed remorse in his expression, but it was most likely wishful thinking.

In a final fit of adrenaline, my body overpowered his spell. My limbs thrashed, but they were weak. Useless. Deprived of oxygen.

Ray was disappearing behind the darkness. Blending into the background. Dissolving into the world. All planes and dimensions were unraveling. My limbs weren't struggling anymore. I don't even think my heart was beating.

Dimly, I worried for my family, who would be left at Ray's mercy.

The red of his eyes were the last things I saw. Invisible hands tightened around my throat, and it all rolled black.


	8. Alive

The room was gold with morning light. At first, I thought this must be the afterlife. Heaven, I hoped. Soon I'd see Josh and mom and dad, because Ray had likely killed them. Then, I'd see Petey. The dog Ray killed three years ago.

The pain in my throat reminded me, quite brutally, I was alive when I drew in a deep breath.

"Oh..." I croaked, rubbing it with a numb, shaky hand. "Wha...?" Ray wasn't anywhere to be seen. I glanced at my clock. 9:15 AM.

"Did I miss school?" _Did I miss school? Did I really just say that? After last night? THAT'S what I'm thinking?_

"Saturday. Right. It's Saturday." I wrapped myself tighter in my blanket. I felt so cold. Unusually cold. Was it shock? Was I asleep? Passed out? Where had Ray gone to? Was it a night terror? Did I do this to myself?

I put my index finger to my wrist, still shivering. My pulse was there, but it seemed... sluggish. My mind was so muddled I couldn't even keep track of it without my thoughts wandering, but it was slower than my usual resting rate. I couldn't seem to warm up, either. A thought crept in. Bled in. Slipped between the lobes of my brain and made me jump up in bed, now fully alert.

Am I undead?

Oh no no no no nononono

I hastily bounded out of bed clumsily, heading for my bedroom mirror.

Nonono God

I rigorously studied my features for any sign. I knew I had a pulse, but something wasn't right. Did Ray's heart beat? Did the undead have a heart? I wasn't getting much warmer.

My pupils weren't dilated. They seemed reactive to light. My pulse was slow, but it was there. I was still so cold.

A chill ran through me. My throat was dry and hot with fear. Swallowing did nothing to help things.

"Josh?" I called out. His room was just across the hall from mine. "Josh!" I screamed, when he didn't answer immediately.

"I just got up!" He whined in a drowsy but concerned voice. I'd have yelled again if he hadn't opened my door seconds after answering. Comforting each other after nightmares for years resulted in us being both... fast-acting.

"What's up?" He was still rubbing sleep out of one eye. His hair was a disheveled mess. "Did you have a bad dream?" I rubbed the raw spots on my throat, like fingers had actually been there. I almost spoke, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't even really know what had happened last night. If it was real, or if I had done this to myself. I couldn't figure out why I was still alive.

"Hey, you look kind of pale. Amanda, what is it?"

"Ray was here." It was all I could think to say. It crackled from my aching throat past my broken lips as a ghostly whisper. I studied Josh's features, looking for a sign. What sign it was, I didn't know. Some kind of clarity. Something to make sense of what happened to me. I don't know why I expected him to have an answer, but it was all I could do.

All I saw was worry and sheet-white dread.

"A night terror, right?" His voice was uneven.

"I- I don't... I don't know. It was so real." My throat still hurt unbearably bad. And my pulse still seemed slow, though it was getting better. Some of the dread was subsiding.

"Amanda, it had to have been," he was trying to rationalize now. "I know you don't have them often. It must have been really vivid this time."

"I was able to move." I protested, only now recalling I moved my foot. "I did it to see if... If he was really..." I rubbed my throat again. I never would have imagined being strangled could have such a lingering, intense pain. The rising dread was returning. It felt like a fog clearing. The sobering reality, I knew, was that Ray had been here.

Josh's expression went clammy and dead again. At first, I thought he was considering the idea I might be right. Or maybe that he was attuned to my own anxiety. But his eyes weren't on me. In fact, I didn't seem to exist at all to him. He strode into the room, closing the distance on something, and still ignoring me.

"Amanda." Only now did he utter my name. It was all he said, and it was the last thing either of us uttered for the rest of the morning. I turned, anxious to see whatever it was that had him so spooked. It took all of three seconds to notice what had cemented it.

On my open windowsill was a child's dirty shoeprint.


	9. Too Many Questions

It was a slow and uneventful Saturday. Josh and I ate breakfast in a general silence around noon. I took small, forced bites of toast. Each dry shred of it triggering the dull ache in my throat. Neither of us were hungry, but we didn't know what to do aside from going through the motions. Josh stirred his cereal with a numb, glazed expression. Occasionally taking a soggy bite.

Mom and dad had left sometime a few hours earlier. They were fond of casino trips on the weekend. Rather, they had been ever since they needed some kind of distraction since our incident. I don't know how they decided on it, but I guess I didn't mind. It gave them something else to enjoy, and worry about. Depending on how much they won or lost.

"How do you feel?" Josh broke the silence. It made me flinch.

"Okay," I mumbled. Our boisterous and argumentative dynamic had died after the trauma. It made for a bonding experience, and I was grateful for his support, but sometimes I wished we'd fight again. None of us fought anymore. Our spines and fire were left in the Dead House. And if the shoeprint and the pain in my throat were anything to go by, the Dead House had followed us here.

"Why do you think he didn't kill us?" It was Josh again, abruptly. There was no emotion in his voice. No fear, no anger, no conviction, or even wonder. It was completely stripped of emotion. As vacant as his dead fish-eyes. It was like talking to a corpse. There was a cruel irony in it that made my lip curl.

"Don't know." My voice rasped.

"I'm so sick of..."

"Yeah. I am, too." He didn't need to continue. I knew exactly what he was sick of. I'm not sure anything is worse than living in fear. And that's all we'd done in the intervening years. We were all shrinking into ourselves. We were all being medicated. We all had nightmares and nervous breakdowns. We all would wake up screaming from time to time. We'd all shake and cry and have vivid flashbacks. We were all damaged.

Josh threw his bowl of cereal over my shoulder. My arms instinctively shielded my face, but it was so delayed that I wasn't protected until I already heard the dish clanging off the wall and onto the floor. I couldn't see it, but I heard it break and chip into pieces. The muted, wet plops of soaked shredded wheat hitting the floor reminded me of Ray's eyes falling to the ground.

"What the- Josh?" I peeked at him between my fingers. His mouth was pulled into a painful, mirthless smirk.

"Isn't it better for something to just happen? So we can stop being afraid?" The last few words were thick and wet. His eyes were coming back to life, though in a way I didn't particularly like. A tear cut his face and his throat visibly strained. A lump threatening to turn into a sob.

"... Yeah." I agreed. He wasn't wrong. Constantly fighting the fear—yourself- was exhausting. As I'd already mentioned, we were all being worn down. And last night proved it was justified. Maybe that was the worst part of it. How could much less would we rest now with Ray hanging over our heads? Ray, who could appear again at any moment.

"Why didn't he kill us?" Josh repeated. He didn't sound afraid or disbelieving. Not relieved, tone was regretful- like he WANTED it to end. The saddest part was, I completely understood.

"I passed out. I think I actually was dead there for a minute." The dread was swelling in my throat. I felt mostly normal now, but that fit of panic earlier brought the lingering fear back. Those fleeting moments I thought I was undead. But my heart was still beating. As long as that's true, it means I'm alive.

"What did he do?"

"That thing he did three years ago. It was like being strangled with his mind. My throat still hurts." My crackling voice was evidence of that.

"Could he still be in here?"

"No." I hadn't considered it before he asked, but I think we both knew. "He'd have just finished the job. He had me dead to rights. If he didn't do it, why stick around?"

"Why come all this way just to back out?" He countered. His eyes had sharpened with thought. A welcome sight from the typical lingering cowardice in all of our eyes. "He must still be around. If not in the house-"

"Yeah..." That much I agreed with. I don't know why Ray didn't finish what he started, but I was also convinced it wasn't over. And if he could come all his way, who knows who else might be able to? Would I see Karen again? Dawes? Petey?

And if Ray did intend to kill me, why not just do it outright? Why not strangle me with his bare hands? Why not stab me? Shoot me? Why did he use the ritual? Where was he now? And when would he return?

The image of him above my bed last night played itself out every few seconds. And it was just as I remembered him from all those years ago. His stare sent chills down my spine.

Annoyingly, my traumatized heart fluttered.


	10. Mama

Ray abandoned me. He ABANDONED me for Amanda- for a girl who I used to like. A girl I THOUGHT I could call my friend. I really did like Amanda while she was here. I even liked her for a few years afterward, too. But the sicker and more distant Ray grew, the more obsessive he became about her, the more I resented her.

I hated her for coming between Ray and I. As if things weren't strained enough already. I died in the early seventies. Ray in the late eighties, when the gas leak killed the town and resurrected the already deceased. We're confined to the bodies of children, but we're also from different eras. Sometimes our mindsets didn't gel. And somehow, despite him being younger, he was always comforting me. Reassuring me. Coddling me. It was embarrassing. But I think being "kids" took the edge off of it. Physically, we're both eleven.

Truthfully, Ray is eighteen.

I'm thirty-five.

Yeah, so maybe I shouldn't be pining after Ray. Maybe I shouldn't want him. Maybe we shouldn't be lovers. Maybe, under normal circumstances. But right and wrong don't really apply to the undead the way it does to the living.

I didn't truly believe Ray intended to finish her off. Truthfully, I don't know what he intended to do. First and foremost, we had to track him down. Track him, then find Amanda. I'd finish the job myself. I'd wrap my pale little hands around her creamy neck and savor her death throes. I'd grin above her body as her weak, mortal hands pathetically tried to pry me off. I'd feel her warm, ragged breath against my wrists. And her pulse fade along with the light in her eyes as she winks from existence. I win, you little bitch.

The thought of the young, beautiful Amanda made me sick. I could only imagine how she'd developed in the past few years. I still remembered her. Her chestnut brown hair. Her chocolate brown eyes. Her fair skin. How I envied her appearance. All the while I'm confined to this scrawny, unimpressive body.

She's only fifteen or so by now. If anything, Ray CAN'T be with her. But he and I are both adults. WE can both consent. WE can be together.

It was just a matter of making the child, the BOY, really, understand that I'm the grownup and I know what's best. He may have been appointed the Watcher, but there were times he looked to me as a mother. There were times he sought me out for guidance. Sometimes, he even favored me over his own parents. That's something Amanda couldn't give him.

Compton Dawes, the town "realtor" lived alone. He'd been appointed leader not long after the incident that killed and revived us. He was in charge of bringing fresh blood in. He dictated our daily affairs. He was the one who approved or denied all important affairs here. Everything ran by him.

Except for Ray's act of defiance.

I knocked urgently on his door, expecting to wait a few minutes. To my surprise, the door opened almost immediately.

"Karen?" His blue eyes brightened above the crinkles below them. "What brings you here? What's wrong?"

"Ray," I choked it out. His face hardened instantly.

"What about Ray?" His tone was confusing. Angry, almost as if knowing. Was he suspicious of Ray well before I was? Had Ray told him something?

"He fled the tow-"

"That's impossible. Even if he tried, he couldn't have wandered far. When did he leave?"

"Just ten or twenty minutes ago. I tried to follow him. I tried, but-"

"He can't have made it far..." He repeated to himself. His eyes were focused, but distant. They seemed to peer past me as he considered something.

"Why did he leave? What did he say?"

"Amanda. He wants to- he said he wants to-"

"Amanda _Benson_? That family that escaped? That stupid boy... Can't have made it far..." There was that repetition again.

"I thought the same thing, but the pain... It crippled me. I couldn't get past it. But Ray kept going. I watched him keep going. He-"

""Keep going"?" Compton Dawes was incredulous in his awe. ""Keep going"?" He repeated in disbelief. "How far?"

"Until I couldn't even make him out anymore. A mile. More."

"Nobody's ever... Jesus."

"What do we do?"

"Why did he leave?" Dawes repeated urgently. There was a fear in his eyes. There was this constant undercurrent of fear, but why?

"To kill Amanda." I couldn't resist grinning as I uttered the words. There was some perverse pleasure in hearing it aloud. The idea of Amanda's death becoming that much more tangible.

"That _fool-_ " Dawes jogged into an adjacent room in his house. I could hear him jostling papers and scouring file cabinets.

"Mr. Dawes?"

"We keep- WE KEEP EVERYTHING!" I could hear him banging the walls with his fists in frustration. "In this town! If he goes out into the world- one misstep! One fuckup and we're all screwed!" I'd never once herd Compton Dawes so angry and shaken in all the years I'd known him. It made me uneasy. Almost scared.

"We'll find him." I offered from the doorway, where I still stood. "I don't think he'd- he's too soft. Too attached. He won't kill her. But we could finish them off if we find him. I never liked Amanda anyway." There was a long pause as he considered this. The cabinets and rustling of papers had all but stopped.

"Impossible." His voice was a defeated whisper from the other room.

"I know it'd be difficult—"

"We aren't strong enough to withstand leaving. It's impossible Ray managed to. He's not wherever Amanda is right now. He can't have gotten that far- wherever _that far_ might be." But he was wrong. I _knew_ he was wrong. I knew Ray. He was stronger than that. If he could push past the initial wave, I _knew_ he was out there.

"Ray's strong..."

"Impossible..." It was an utterance only to himself now. And his disbelief made it that much clearer: If I was to find Ray. If I was to kill Amanda. If I was to make Ray mine and force it if I truly had to, it'd be by myself.

I knew I could make him see things Mama's way. But it was going to take some discipline. And a little elbow grease.

Amanda was the smear. The smudge on an otherwise perfect happy little ever after.

And unsightly little blemishes are so easily rubbed away.


	11. Anew

The warmth was nearly absent from Amanda's body. It took surprisingly minimal effort to psychically strangle her.

The ritual was nearing completion. My heart would have been racing if it were a living thing. I counted her dying pulse. Spikes of adrenaline would raise it, but it was growing weaker each time. The death knells were becoming too strong.

Soon, she'd be just as I was.

Undead.

But why?

I tried to maintain my mind's grip on her throat.

Why not kill her?

I focused on stilling her heart.

I could feel her pulse in my mind. 30 beats per minute.

Why leave her alive in any capacity?

38 beats per minute.

Kill her. That was the objective, right?

24.

To rid myself of these feelings?

27.

Why make her undead?

20.

Make up your mind, Ray. Why did you come? What was it for?

12.

I remembered the way she used to look. Much how she did just moments ago in her bed. Her warm complexion. The blush in her cheeks. The way her smile was loving but timid.

4.

There was no color to her anymore.

The pulse was gone.

I let go.

5.

18.

29.

It rapidly climbed and she started to breathe- labored- again. The ordeal left her unconscious despite the fact life was returning to her. The intangible hands of my mind withered away into nothingness again. As they did after every ritual.

For the second time, I failed to complete it.

More worryingly, I contemplated why I attempted it at all. Did I not come here with a plan? Wasn't the idea to kill her? Why "spare" her by making her undead?

He pulse was normal.

I rounded the foot of her bed and stood at her side now. Only observing her. She'd grown so much in three years. She'd changed so much, and even so... She was hardly any different. So pale, but so warm. Lush brunette hair. Her chest trembled just so with each sleeping breath.

Nervously, I rested my hand just below her collar bone. Her flesh was fiery against my clammy skin. I could almost feel her body rushing with blood. The pulse was almost overwhelming. So much life.

"Ray..." Her eyes were watery slits. Barely open. Her voice was low and hoarse. I couldn't discern if she were truly awake. And if she was, if she'd remember this.

A stray tear cut her cheek.

I tried to say something. Anything. But there were no words. Not in my mind, and not even something I could mutter stupidly without thought.

Only silence.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly. As if to say "Couldn't do it".

Her chapped lips curled into a relieved smile, and she drifted back into her dreams.

There was one strong thud in my chest.

I backed into the darkness. Away from the living girl and where her kind dreamed.

For the first time in seven years, I had to catch my breath.


	12. Della Raver

It was pathetic how little I'd thought things through. I failed to take daylight into account. So eager to escape the clutches of Dark Falls, I'd forgotten our pivotal weakness. Only through sheer luck of having worn a coat was I shielded from the rays. But it wasn't shelter enough.

I wandered into some nearby woods. Shambling while I looked for somewhere to hide and think over my next move. Somewhere shady. Somewhere-

A hiss.

"–?!" I felt a coil wrap itself around my leg. Tight. Fierce.

It was a snake.

"What the hell-" I kicked my leg wildly, sending the snake slamming into a tree trunk. It made a wet smacking sound before recoiling into some brush.

"Wow! Really impressive!" It was the voice of a girl. Above me? I scanned the tree line while also trying to keep my face shielded from the sun.

"Who's there?"

"You'd make a good buddy!"

"Come out!" I demanded. I still couldn't trace the source of the voice. It sounded as if it were on the ground now.

"But- hey. Something's not right with you. Is it?"

"Out!" I barked, growing impatient of these games. My breathing was labored again. It was an odd sensation. This nervousness. I hadn't felt it since I died.

"You're like me." It was directly behind me now. I turned to face the source. It was a young girl. Maybe ten or eleven. Pale complexion. Light blonde hair. Something was off about her, but I couldn't place it.

"What are you talking about?" I scanned our surroundings. Looking for signs of other people. "Why are you- are you alone-"

"Uh-huh. I'm alone," her voice was bubbly and teasing. "So don't worry! I won't tell anyone what you are. Well... Not that I really know either."

"What are you talking about?" I repeated, trying to feign ignorance. But I felt she knew. I don't know how, but she did. Then, it occurred to me.

A mid-October day. It was sunny, but brisk. 40 degrees at most.

But she was wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt. Yet she showed no signs of being cold. In fact, she seemed eerily comfortable. Both in the weather and in her candidness.

"So, how'd ya die?"

She knew. I don't know how, but she knew. I couldn't let that stand. I felt the hot glow in my eyes. Readying the ritual. I still couldn't stand killing with my bare hands. I didn't WANT to make her undead, but if it meant silencing her-

My psychic hands went for her neck... And passed right through.

"What-"

"Hey! I felt that!" She seemed more annoyed than afraid or scared. In a swift, eerie motion, she popped up just in front of me. Inches from my face. So fast I could barely react.

She isn't human.

I felt fear now.

"Get away!" I swatted at her, but my arm disappeared into a mist. A dense, white fog. It sent a chill through me, and she was gone. Or so it seemed for a moment. I heard her voice echoing all around me again.

"I thought you'd make a good buddy to take with me. To the afterlife. But you... You're not right. Although, there's something else about you."

"Something else?" I quietly repeated it, entranced by what she was saying.

"You're not alive... But you're not dead." I was still frantically scanning the surrounding area for her.

"I know. I'm undead." I confessed to her, realizing my secrecy didn't matter to whoever this creature was.

"Uh-uh." She denied from the darkness of the forest. "It's not just "undead". I think you were for a while. But you're changing."

My breathing again. Why couldn't I catch my breath?!

"Face me! Tell me what you know! What are you?!"

"I need a buddy to take with me. To escape this place. I can't go alone. But you won't work. So you can go."

"I'm not leaving. Not until you tell me who you are. What you are. And what you know." The forest sighed. I felt an energy around me. An ocean. I was swimming in this power. Whatever she was, she was far stronger than I.

"Okay." It was booming. Deafening. Threatening to crush me. To destroy this undead coil binding me to this earth. But it was also bored. Almost exasperated. For a fleeting moment, I considered fleeing the forest. Even if it meant diving into the sunlight to die again.

But as quickly as this boundless sinister energy swallowed me, it vanished, and the girl was beside me. Innocently smiling. Completely devoid of ill-intent.

"I'm Della. Della Raver."


End file.
